


Red Means Unsolved

by theroguesgambit



Series: Drabbletastic [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (but not anti-Malia), (kind of), F/M, M/M, Red String of Fate, Unresolved Feelings, not pro-Stalia, pre-Sterek - Freeform, tag to Muted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:53:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theroguesgambit/pseuds/theroguesgambit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The red yarn and Derek definitely still fit together. Stiles just isn't sure why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Means Unsolved

“What is Derek Hale doing on your wall?”

Stiles spins away from his textbook, eyes going automatically to his window because, yeah, the lurker’s long overdue for one of his creepy, Hanging Out in Dark Corners to Freak People Out visits, isn’t he? But he finds the room Derek-free. …Or, almost.

Malia’s standing by his corkboard, head tilted, squinting at a mess of colored yarn and Derek’s face.

Stiles is on his feet a second later, letting out a laugh that escapes too high, too shaky… and where the  _hell_ is all this nervous energy coming from? His gut’s twisting the same way it did when the condom fell out of his pocket in class, when his dad found the playboy he hadn’t quite managed to tuck back with the rest of his stash before heading to school a few years back. Like someone’s seen a part of him he knows should stay hidden.

Over a few stray strings and a picture.

“It’s, uh… just left over from when we were sorting things out. Looking for Derek in Mexico.”

Malia turns her gaze from the board to Stiles, frowning sympathetically.

“Were you afraid you’d forget what he looks like? Sometimes human faces look the same.”

Stiles isn’t sure what to say to that, a surprised laugh slipping out.

“Oh yeah?”

She nods earnestly, then smiles – one of those flash in the pan Malia smiles that bursts out fast and bleeds back to neutral a second later.

“Not yours, though.”

He can’t help grinning at that. Here he is, standing in his bedroom next to a beautiful, tough, awesome girl who thinks he stands out in a crowd more than  _Derek freaking Hale_. Seriously, how has he been lucky enough to land someone like that? He reminds himself again how lucky he is.

She’s looking back at the corkboard.

“Are the strings for decoration?”

She’s completely serious there, too. Malia’s still pretty fuzzy on things like fashion and home furnishing. (Stiles is pretty sure Lydia completely controls her wardrobe.)

“No, they, uh… they were to help with the search. You know, different colors mean different things.”

She smiles when she gets it, her eyes going back to the bed and the highlighters. Because yeah, she color codes too. He feels an urge to lean in and peck her lips again. She gets it. It’s something so little, so simple, but it makes what they’ve been doing all this time feel like maybe it’s more than just physical.

It’s a nice feeling – having someone who might want him, might  _get_  him.

“So…” her finger reaches out to pluck the string hanging down across Derek’s face, and Stiles fights a strange impulse to catch her hand mid-motion. “What does red mean?”

His throat feels strangely dry. The condom-in-class feeling is back in his gut, writhing like a secret he doesn’t even understand.

“Unsolved,” he croaks out, wondering why the word feels so tight in his throat. “The red string stands for unsolved.”

Malia blinks at him for a moment, then turns back and, without warning, tugs the picture, yarn and tack straight off the board. It feels like a sledgehammer straight to his gut.

“Oh, so you can get rid of this then, right? We’ve found him. It’s solved now.”

She smiles like she does when she remembers a particularly difficult rule of social etiquette, like she’s done him a favor and is waiting for him to be grateful. Stiles smiles back, not sure why his hands are aching to get a hold of that yarn, not sure why he feels so  _exposed_  with Malia holding it and the picture.

“Yeah,” he manages. “It’s been solved.”

Malia nods, drops the handful of yarn and paper in the wastebasket, and goes to hop back on the bed, looking over their combined notes.

And Stiles manages to wait until Malia leaves that night before going back to the bin, grabbing a bright red end of yarn and tugging it out. Derek’s picture is still caught halfway down, pinned in place by the tack.

He manages to convince himself it’s the tack he was fishing for (no reason to get rid of a perfectly good one, right?) until it’s pushed back into the corkboard and he still can’t bring himself to get rid of the rest.

The case  _is resolved_ , but it doesn’t feel like it.

He wraps the red string loosely around Derek’s photo and tucks it away in the corner of his desk drawer. He’ll think about it later; he’ll piece together what the instinct in the back of his mind is trying to tell him. He’s the one who figures things out, and this is no different. He just needs some time.

He’ll work out why every thought he has about Derek feels like it’s wrapped up in red yarn.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come find me on Tumblr](http://halekingsourwolf.tumblr.com)


End file.
